Sparks
by candelight
Summary: Chibi Turtle Fiction. Raph has taken to visiting an elderly woman who lies at Death's Door in a small Abbey. There, in the fractured tales she manages to give him, Raph learns that even though all that glitters is not gold, light is never truly gone.
1. Chapter 1

Sparks

Chibi Turtle Fiction. Raph has taken to visiting an elderly woman who lies at Death's Door in a small Abbey. There, in the fractured tales she manages to give him, Raph learns that even though all that glitters is not gold, light is never truly gone, even when the door shuts.

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Quote:

Light gives of itself freely, filling all available space. It does not seek anything in return; it asks not whether you are friend or foe. It gives of itself and is not thereby diminished. ~Michael Strassfeld

* * *

The feeling of cold pavement against his bare feet. He managed a shudder as he ducked into a nearby alley, a pair of eyes gleaming before

the smallest _scrtch_ noise-like claws against stone before the trembling turtle heard the tiny rat scutter away into the gloom, near the faded,

dusty red brick, near the cracked, graffiti encrusted walls near the garbage cans.

The turtle clasped his hand over his nose, making a face.

Eyyyyuuuucccck.

Nasty.

And this was coming from a turtle who lived in the sewers!

He shuddered again, before setting off once more. He'd been here enough times to know where he was going-and where the best shortcuts

were, as well as the places best to avoid.

Splinter was going to KILL him if he discovered Raphael disappeared every night-well, every Tuesday night, at the very least-but it was a

journey Raphael felt well worth it.

The rat had good reason to be protective, but, the Daichi born (second oldest) turtle couldn't help but feel slightly irratated that it was so

difficult to get in and out of the Lair at night.

Master Splinter HAD been giving him suspicious glances as of late....mainly due to his yawning during morning excercises. But so far, he had

not confronted Raphael.

Yet.

He could only hope things stayed that way. Raph managed a small sigh before passing one of the neighborhood's remaining trees-which

was leafless, oily looking, and on the whole, rather depressing, seeing as there were crushed chip bags, glittering glass shards of dark

green bottles, and the occasional empty cigar case near its roots.

Almost there. Good. This place was kinda givin' him the creeps.

He still remembered though-a time when the place was much more petrifying.

And that had been the first time Raphael had literally flew into the Monastery of The Sacred Heart, many weeks ago.

* * * *~* * * *

New York had been taken by storm.

Quite literally, seeing as Hurricane Alice had struck the sky full force. Raph couldn't remember a time he'd gotten so soaked.

It had rained for days on end-well, quite literally poured from the heavens for awhile. Mikey could be seen rushing about the leaks in their

home with a small teapot.

And one night, when the river had overflowed, it had simply gotten from bad to worse.

Master Splinter had been somewhat apphrensive over the pst few days...

....but this had finally effected the rain sewers far too much. But Raph had become accustomed to the constant dripping, and was sleeping

quite comfortably in it.

That is, before Splinter's hands began to roughly shake him and his brothers awake.

Raph had whimpered, and sank deeper into the warmth of the pillows, mind groggy.

"Mmmmmmrrrmmmth...."

"Wake, my sons. Wake up, wake up, wake UP!"

So intense was Splinter's voice Leo feebly stirred, blinked blearily, and lowered himself from his quilt onto the floor, shivering.

"Sei....?"

Splinter seized the damp ponchos hanging from a nearby hook, and began to force the purple one over Don's shoulders. The young Scientist

staggered.

"Mrmth-Dad, what is......?!"

"My sons. We must leave. Right now."

Well, that got Mikey's attention.

What also got his attention was the fact that Splinter was now yanking his cold orange and yellow cloak over his head. The turtle spluttered,

droplets flying everywhere from his damp hood.

"Leave? But why...?"

Splinter's hand grasped Leo's, who grasped Raph's as Splinter grasped Mikey's, who grasped Don's.

"The town's emergency drain system simply couldn't handle this volume of water! The people above are being evacuated-we can't stay here

any longer! This place may flood as well!"

Raph gulped as they reached the sloshing canals outside, shivering as cold waves brushed at his waist.

Splinter pulled down his own dark hood, a deep frown on his face as he gestured towards a nearby ladder-half of it already submerged.

This was bad.

If Splinter was ACTUALLY telling them to leave for topside, then things were very bad indeed.

Hands digging at the rusty, slightly cracked metal, Raph inched his way forwards, heart pounding violently as he did so.

----

He spluttered, a sea barrage in the air-the winds tearing at his poncho, and making the folds spin wildly in the air.

He could see nothing, save for the silver dashes of-

The rat grasped his hand, fighting to have his hood stay secured over his face.

"My sons-keep a hold on each other. Let us be-"

Too bad Raph didn't have a chance to finish listening, seeing as his fingers were ripped from his father's arm.

Splinter let out a strangled cry of warning, and made a vicious snatch in midair-!

----

Raph had only fell back a few meters, but already he missed the comforting grip of Splinter's fingers against his wrist. He peered at his

surroundings, wincing when the rain and gales forced his eyelids shut.

"SENSEI?"

No answer.

"DONNY?"

Nothing, save for the pouring rain.

"MIKEY!"

An empty can brushed past, straight into one of the deep puddles the rain sewage junction was slowly oozing onto the street.

"LEO?"

The wind gusted, sending the timid turtle back a few paces, but nothing.

* * *

He was alone.

In a few seconds he was alone, wet, and in the dark.

And if Raph's heart had been pounding viciously before, then now, it was worse then ever.

He desperately glanced at his surroundings-

And hope flared.

It would be easy enough climbing from the garbage disposal to those two low buildings.

And, once he got a better view-!

Raph's hands were on the drainpipes in a matter of seconds.

----

This was a lot harder then Splinter made it look like! Raph huffed, hands slowly began to slide from the damp metal. His grip tightened, and

he pushed himself forwards.

Ah, well. He could lean against that window-and give himself a break. Otherwise, he felt certain he'd simply slide back to the bottom.

He prepared to rest his shell against the opening, taking deep breaths as he halted his movements.

But he'd been wrong. Someone had left the window OPEN, gray curtains fluttering in the wild chorus of the wind.

And Raphael, a cry lost, so great was his astonishment as his shell rested against nothing but empty space, fell backwards, face and limbs

brushing against the faded cloth....

.....straight into the room of the building itself.

----

"Oof!"

Raphael fell, hood brushing backwards as his body hit a wool carpet, too stunned to move.

The back of his neck prickled, as dread began to pool in his stomach.

And he slowly looked up.

An old woman-hair bone white, face wizened-looking rather like a tiny bird-nestled in between several old quilts-was peering up from a black

book with a red ribbon sticking out of it-directly at him.


	2. Chapter 2

This was bad.

This was bad, this was bad, this was bad, this was bad.

Oh, help, this was bad.

Raph staggered up, mind racing in the deathly silence.

Any moment now, she would undoubtedly start screaming. And Raphael would turn and flee, never mind that he was several stories up,

never mind that it was storming-just turn around for Splinter to whisk him away underneath the-

Finally, the woman spoke.

"Well, that was interesting," she commented, as if Raphael were a bird that had fluttered in then out, or a small stone.

The woman redirected her attention at her book, with a small crease in her forehead. She sighed and let her book fall with a small plunk

onto her lap.

"Oh….this is no good," she fretted, clasping pale hands together as the book slid, neglected from her limp grasp. "I can't see a thing of this

fine print…..and, anyhoo-such depressing balderdash any-"

The woman began to violently cough, sentence quite abruptly finished. Raphael stared at the woman, stunned at his luck.

This was the chance! HIS chance! He could run, run and never look back-keep running until-!

The woman continued her violent attack. Raphael stared at her wearily.

Oh, yes…..he was in trouble after this one.

Timidly he approached, jerking back every so often in between step, as if the woman were an alligator that might rear and snap.

There was a jug and a small glass resting on a nearby table. Raph uncertainly reached both, staggering under the pitcher's heavy weight.

"Water?" he asked, noticing his voice had gone much higher then usual.

The woman was now choking slightly, face gone paler then before. She managed to separate words from her heaving gasps.

"I….yes….b-but…you'll…..have to help….me."

Feeling more afraid then ever, the young turtle quietly stood on tiptoe and awkwardly helping the woman forwards toward the small glass.

A minute or two went by. Finally, her jerking movements began to end, her posture becoming more relaxed as she quietly nodded to

Raphael, who heaved the pitcher back. She managed a quiet sigh.

"Ah….thank you, fönster-pojke," she said tiredly, rubbing at her eyes.

Raph just stared at her.

What was WITH this old woman? What was worng with you? Did she not seem the least bit concerned that a-?!

And just what was a "fönster-pojke" anyway?!"

Raph stopped his reverie when he heard the old woman speak again.

"Thank you, dear. I do hate those attacks. They become quite irritating after awhile."

After awhile?

Raph cocked his head.

"Are you sick?"

The woman managed another smile.

"Something like that."

She closed her eyes again, but soon opened them. Her orbs were a bright, electric blue.

"Tell me, child….is anyone waiting for you? The weather's quite dangerous as of late….I heard them watching the Weather channel

downstairs some time ago."

Raph stared at her, this time with more interest.

"Them?"

The woman slowly turned her head to better observe him.

"Ah….the sisters, here. The nuns," she explained, when Raphael gave her a quizzical look.

"And do not fret….I-"

"Wait a moment."

The turtle frowned, as if seeing the woman for the first time.

"Why'd ya call me "child?" You don't know if-"

"Oh, but I do," she said simply, laying her fingers to intercross yet again.

"You seemed scared out of your wits when you "dropped in." I am so glad you came for a visit, dear. And, as I was saying, do not fret. The

storm will pass soon enough-no one will be out and about for awhile. I'm sure you can find your companion or companions soon enough. You

don't look like you walk alone. And…." A twinkle sparked her electric like eye.

"La Rhodine has seen odder things, my child. Odder things. You tend to as a strewer."

Raph just slowly shook his head-relieved, but puzzled.

La Rhodine?

That was it.

This woman HAD to be crazy.

Speaking of which….Raph glanced own at the floor, scowling.

"What _is_ this place, anyway?"


	3. Chapter 3

"This, Raphael, is the Convent of The Sacred Heart. Where I and seventy others reside."

_Seventy! _"Have you always lived here?"

The woman's eyes glowed.

"Ah….non, non….what is your name, dear?"

The turtle paused, Uncertain.

If she wasn't going to rat on him….

"Raphael."

The woman smiled again.

"After Sanzio?"

Raph blinked, looking taken aback. The woman laughed.

"Ah…sorry if I was wrong, fönster-pojke. I always did love Renaissance art."

_She'd probably get along with Master Splinter. _Raph felt another twinge of worry strike at him. He slowly shook his head.

"Um….er…"

Lost for a change of subject, He cast a curious look at the small stack of books near the woman's bed.

Raphael was only learning basic skills in literature, and he was more accustomed to kanji-but he thought he could make out a few titles:

_Confessions of an Archbishop on Castillo_

_Dante's Inferno_

_The Black Plague_

_Outbreak_

_The enclyopedia of every English word that has ever, ever exi-_

"These don't look fun," commented Raph.

The woman managed a faint chuckle.

"No indeed. The others do try hard, but, in this area…" she made a small, helpless shrug.

"Occasionally, someone comes and reads to me. I can't make out things very well without my glasses."

Raphael glanced at the window, the wood becoming increasingly damp. The storm was still raging. He fervently hoped the others managed

to find warm and dry shelter.

"Um….my Sei-Sei usually tells me one when I'm sick," he commented uncertainly, watching her. "Can you, uh…well….d'you mind saying one,

or shall I?"

The woman sat up a little straighter, eyes beginning to glint again.

"Would you mind terribly if I started first, dear?"

Raph slowly shook his head no and slowly sank onto the carpet.

Might as well kill some time.

The elderly woman cleared her throat.

"Once upon a time, Raphael, there was a pompous and busybody family in a pompous, busybody town."

The old woman's hands lay quiet and unmoving against the afghan she had been wrapped in, sharp blue eyes drawn to the floor, a slightly

self-mocking smile on her face. She sighed, drew back into the embroidered pillow behind her, and continued.

"It was a hoshposh existance, little fönster-pojke, very hoshposh....there was a father-bah! Only by name, seeing as he was as cold and dry

as a winter rutabaga, a mother-also only by name, who spent her days either in her villa sweeping about the many rooms, or gossiping with

her neighbors."

The old woman's hands drew tighter, clasping themselves more tightly in each other.

Raphael leaned forwards, a slightly inquisitive look in his eyes.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Did they hav' any kids?"

A slight smile crossed her face, cerulean eyes twinkling again.

"Yes," she said at last, so softly it was only slightly above a whisper. Raph had to really concentrate to listen.

"They had a child. A little girl.

Well, the days went by-as they always must, fönster-pojke-"

"Why d'ya keep calling me that?" interrupted Raph, chin resting slightly on his fists.

The woman blinked, looking a bit distracted.

"Oh! fönster-pojke is just something in the old tongue, lad-it's simply Swedish for "Window-boy."

She smiled at the now slightly bewildered turtle, but continued.

"Now....where was I where was I....ah."

Remembrance began to cloud her eyes. She seemed to be speaking more to herself then Raph.

"Well...things went on in this silly fashion for many a year, until the girl turned fourteen. You must understand, dear-things were very

different indeed back then. It was...proper and esteemed custom for a parent to choose a suitable fiancé for their child when they came of

age-which could be anywhere to twelve to eighteen, Raphael." Her voice became bitter once again, as if she were tasting some of the

mendicant that the nurse had left behind.

"Anyhoo-like I believe I said before-it was dinner late one night. Fa-the father had arrived somewhat later then work then usual. That came

to no surprise to the little girl, seeing as the man was more married to his career then to his wife.

Nonetheless, dinner did come. Mealtimes were always bothersome affairs for the servants-and the little girl. There were three napkins at

each location-most you were not permitted to actually use-three forks, five knives, two glass goblets at each plate-seven plates for each

course, six spoons resting on the damask, a somewhat Lacy tablecloth, a chandelier sparkling before hand that was polished daily....

Dinner was sumptuous-but the little girl had become accustomed to such-in her eyes-rather stiff affairs, and ate regardless. Soon enough,

the Father came in, as did her mother-straight and precisely on time, and..."Fashionably late," as you young people say.

The Mother looked flushed-the little girl figured she had had an especially delicious round of gossip that day-"

"My Papa says it's wrong to gossip."

The woman flashed him a gentle smile.

"And your Aba is correct. The woman and her neighbors were malicious old crows, and delighted in "twisting the knife," as the saying goes.

So the little girl continued to eat her steak and kidney pie, but noticed that both mother and father were not touching their food-and were

both staring intently at her.

It was disconcerting-but she continued to eat nevertheless.

But the staring did not cease, and the girl began to feel anxious. No one spoke-but that was quite normal. Dinnertime was never a family

oriented time, Raphael.

Dessert was Blueberry Crumble. She was ready to dig in, of course-but the Father stopped her….and told her that they both had marvelous

news.

An old friend at the Bank had –and I do mean rather older, seeing as he was sixty-five, had become interested in the girl. He was balding,

spoke in a rather foghorn like voice, and kept checking the gold watch he had inherited from his own father that he kept in his pocket, as an

excuse to have people be aware of his wealth.

He was rich, alright, with plenty of property that had been seized many years ago from a neighboring tribe known as The Sioux, and a

manor.

He had offered a proposal-or rather, he had sent his young secutary to ferry the proposal to Father, who immediately accepted.

Having his boss as his son-in-law-what dreams he had! He could be quickly elevated to a much higher status-that of more prestige, and

always, money."

Her voice had become sour.

"The Mother was also overjoyed at her prospects. Now, she could claim rights to several "discounts" at several stores that were just

opening, like Bloomingdale's and Tiffany's.

But the girl was terrified. She had a bit of a romantic mind, no doubt-owing to the many love stories she bought from the local Drugstore she

perused from underneath the desks while the professor was discussing whatnot."

Raph looked confused.

"Drugstores sold books….?"

"Times were different, dear," she reminded him gently.

"The girl also had her mind made up when the dinner dishes were ferried away that evening.

Later that night, she broke her piggy bank-some things never change-to retrieve some currency she had saved.

And, that night, she fled."

* * *

Raph finally opened his mouth to speak. The woman's eyelids were flickering, and she was suppressing a yawn. Finally, he spoke.

"That….little girl? Was she you?"

Her face now entwined in pillows, Raph barely heard what the woman said next.

"…..indeed."


	4. Chapter 4

After the storm had passed somewhat from the earth, Raph made his way to the window, away from the slightly snoring old woman.

He glanced back.

And sighed as he silently made his way out.

Sheer relief.

Sheer relief was what Raphael felt when a bedraggled Splinter pulled him into a bonebreaking hug…

Going back home after the whole ordeal, and being tucked beneath the quilts of your own bed.

Heaven.

But later, he found the paradise lasted for only so long, when his conscious began to nag at him.

Three nights later, he came back.

* * *

"I had some currency saved up, as I already said, Raphael. It took every penny I owned, but I did make it to one of the oldest cities in

History." She managed a ruffling sigh.

"Paris. Every girl's dream, back then-at least, I thought so-was to one day visit this magical tour' je palace. I had always rather dreamed of

singing and dancing-but never mentioned it to my parents. Theater was not "respectable," as was banking or marrying someone wealthy."

Singing and dancing? Sounded a little silly to the turtle, but he listened nonetheless.

"I tried to get work anywhere-anyhow I could. Theater managers just laughed when they saw me-and told me that hundreds of girls like me

had come to them. But I was a stubborn little thing, fonster, and I simply got jobs as a waitress, or scrubbing floors. I occasionally got the

backstage job of being the curtain drawer.

Days went by. Then months. A new performance was being shown that night…..but this one was different."

Her eyes glowed.

"One of the stagehands had created something of a swing, high above the velvet curtains, high, high amongst the audience. Someone was

going to act as the Spirit of Springtime and strew flowers onto the stage and into the audience." She sighed again.

"Everyone thought it was a lovely idea-but no one was willing to get on! The swing WAS dangerous, mind you-lean too much forward, you

slid off. Lean too far backwards-you fell off.

But I was not particularly afraid of heights, and so, I agreed. It was lovely-I had flowers strewn in my now braided hair, was wearing a new,

light green dress-

"Oh, Raphael, the performance-that shining, positively _illuminata_ performance- was the second, happiest day of my life."

The turtle frowned.

"Second?"

Her smile became somewhat fixed.

"More on that.....later. I loved to rise and fall, sweeping out over many wide eyes, wondering whether or not

I'd fall. I remember being nervous as the chorus began, but ah-what pleasure it brought! How magnificent

the entire preocession felt to me! I remember dropping daffodils, snowdrops, lupines, all so fresh and sweet

from my hands to hands of a stunned audience...."

Silence. The woman was gazing at the ceiling, expression lost. "It's true, you know," she said fretfully,

wringing her hands. "You must think me an old fool for spouting such nonsense, but...."

Raph just shook his head. She smiled and went on.

"I adored the applause-I couldn't drink eonough in. When the sing was lowered, the manager congratulated

me himself, and gave me a small pearl necklace with a ruby shaft. People were so generous back then."

She paused.

"....back then."

"My Sensei says they still are."

She flashed him a small smile.

"I was given the permanent role of being a strewer. The stage clean up LOATHED it-they had so much

cleaning up to do....but the audience did insist, Raphael. I moved from flowers to all seasons-to paper hearts,

glitter, tiny paper stars.....it also varied on where the troupe was leaving for. Once, in Hungary, I strewed

candy canes during the waltz of the Sugar plum Fairy."

_Sugar __Plum__ Fairy?_

"Ah, many places we visited, Raphael....many places. There was France, of course....but there was London.

And Spain. And Hungary. And Sweden. And Germany...." A shuddering sigh escaped her.

"There was also Russia-where Moscow was. I was the spirit of Winter then-and I strewed snow."

"Snow?!"

"Well....fake snow, Raphael dear, but I assure you, it did look lovely. And then...."

The woman's grip on her blankets tightened.

"It happened."

Raph leaned forwards, eyes wide.

"You didn't.....fall, did you?"


	5. Chapter 5

The woman laughed.

"Oh, I fell all right, dear. I fell. But not off the swing, no-I fell in love. A young man-a very quiet young man, with a slightly drooping face

and..."

She closed her eyes.

"Linus was his name. And oh, I had nursed the smallest crush on him when I first began to scrub the stage's hardword floors! He stayed

late-always after everyone else had gone home. He was a scenery painter-and I did love to watch him work, whenever I had a free moment

and I thought he wasn't looking.

The ducks that were to be aimed at in an earlier performance looked ready to fly off the mother-of-pearl sheen away into the air. Every

stroke had to be perfect-every detail to be exactly in precise formation. Sometimes, when I was looking down below from my strewing-I'd

see the canvas disappear and there were birds fluttering about the flowers. It was beautiful, Raphael.

One night-after a performance on Fortunato-I strewed black feathers when he was lead done to the casks below....such a frightening

performance, Raphael! But, on my table-I now had a dressing room of my own-I found a dried rose.

Then, the letters came."

She laughed. Raphael looked ready to be sick.

"Mush," he commented, looking down at his hands.

"Oh...you might understand yourself one day or another."

The turtle seriously doubted this.

"Think so?"

"Who knows? L'amour, like fate, can be a rather ironic thing."

"Ironic?"

She paused.

"I...dated him of all sorts, though in our days we called it courting. Never anything extravagnt- a walk in a nearby park after a performance.

A casual stroll on the bridge. Whatnot was fine. I could never be so natural around anyone else. I wasn't _La Rhodine_, I was just-"

And the nearby door unexpectedly opened.

* * *

"Good morning, Sister Agnes-how was mass?"

From where the old woman had frantically beckoned him, Raph watched, breathless under the bed, a pair of shiny black shoes slowly step in.

"Quite well, Sister. So-so. Here-the Doctor did say you needed two of these an hour."

A rattle. Sounded like pills.

"Thank you."

The black shoes and folds of dark skirt faded away, and the footsteps died away as they went down the stairs.

The woman sighed, and made a gesturing motion. Shyly, Raph made his way out.

* * *

"People have a habit of jumping the gun just as much as they do now, Raphael dear. But I loved him, dear-ah! I loved him so-and, one night,

while everyone was having an encore bow after a performance of Dreadful Acts, he came out on the stage, and, with the Duchess of

Normandywatching, he asked me to marry him. I accepted-happier then I had ever been, Raphael.

The ceremony was short....just a few friends I had made in Paris attended. A kindly old baker-a family that lived nearby. But I still remember

white roses and wedding bells. I found it odd that Emily-our neighbor's little girl-was the one strewing flowers down the isles instead of me.

The honeymoon went past....and, we arrived home. A small, two story, cream colored villa in Northern France. I loved to walk outside in the

grapevines in the early morning-and watch the sun rise, over the hill, sparkling in concussions from a lake-where early morning mist was

beginning to appear.

Two years I spent my life as such, until I became expectant."

"Ex....?" Raph's mouth twisted over the funny word.

"I was going to have a baby, dear," she said tiredly. "And, in December, I had a little boy-David." She let out another sigh. Raph found that she

did that fairly often.

"Oh, he was a lovely. I remember calling him my star-My Star of David.

Linus worked four days a week-things proceeded onwards.

And then...."

The woman's eyes filled with tears as her voice began to tremble.

"I...it was a very cold winter's night. We lived on top of a mountain, so it was always dangerous in the snowy season. But the snow had

been loose that year, due to the warmer weather....Linus's automobile drove past...."

The woman lay her head on the pillows once again, and did not say another word.

Raph slowly stood, and crossed to the windows, tiptoeing as he did so.


	6. Chapter 6

This chapter is warmly delegated to Mikell-my turtle fanfiction idol.

* * *

The visits varied in pace. Sometimes, the only thing the woman managed to do was to give Raph a kind smile and perhaps a tiny tap on the head before dozing off again, murmuring in her slumber.

Days went by. Raph's brothers wondered at his odd habit on yawning Wednesday mornings, but they attributed it to reading under the covers, much to his relief.

There were, however, many close calls. Raph shuddered at the thought of counting them, and simply started making sure he was not being followed.

However, there were….odd occurrences. Raph would be tiptoeing through an alley, just as an odd silhouette would pass by. He would scuttle underneath a dumpster-but there often was a resounding BANG from the opposite alley, making the silhouette shudder, hurriedly look about, and pass on.

There was also a somewhat odd…._prickling_ at his neck. He wasn't sure why.

La Rhondine never ceased to be nonchalant about Raph's appearance. Delighted often at her company-but never astonished. No screaming, no fleeing.

Well….Raph somewhat doubted that she could, but all the same, this woman was either what she said she was-The Sparrow, or just crazy.

Although the turtle never stayed very long, there were always snippets of her story told.

Tonight was such a night. Raph was watching her expectantly from his usual position on the rug, La Rhondine sitting up. Her eyes had been twinkling before, but now the light had quite dissipated by now.

"Linus's funeral was three days later," she said softly, not quite looking at Raphael.

"His will….ah, well….I-"

"What's a will?"

"Oh-something that people use to speak beyond the grave, dear. Not literally, of course," she said quickly, eyeing the stunned expression on Raph's face. "It is simply a document that will state what you leave for your friends, family, loved ones-etc when you die."

_When you die…._Raph's thoughts shifted momentarily. Perhaps he ought to write his own. He owned crayons. Many broken-but same difference.

Leo could have his pillow. His own was getting worn from all the patches it took….and maybe Don could have his-

The woman went on.

"Linus hadn't written another copy of his will since the other five years ago. Ah….that night, the witches came. The witches were Linus's sisters, relatives….."

Raph started. He couldn't think of calling his brothers witches.

Knuckleheads maybe, but….

"They claimed, even though I was the Late Linus' wife, technically and legally speaking under the Jurisdiction, I was told I owned no rights to the home-my land. Six days later, I was evicted with nothing but my suitcase and child.

I went back to the city, vowing to get my job back. But years had gone by….and I was neither that young, nor that pretty anymore. I had some money saved up….but there were many as desperate and as destitute as I, and…" A smile twitched at her lips.

"It is as they say-the rich take care of the rich, and the poor take care of the poor. That is the way of the world, Raphael."

The turtle bit his lip.

"That….can't…"

"We settled for a small apartment. I washed floors and whatnot-but no one could or would tend my child.

It…got chilly in the tenements…"

The woman's voice shook, and Raph trembled.

Her voice told him horror was not too far off.

"Oh…had I maybe scrimped a bit more-gone home early! But….on Christmas Eve….my David…"

Her hands were shaking more violently then ever.

"I came home, the embers still burning slightly. I went to hug my baby, who was still wrapped in a shawl in front of the embers.

But he wasn't there. All that _was_ there was David's body, still in the-"

And then, the woman exploded into tears.

"My baby, my baby, my little Star of David-Linus's baby, my _baby_-"

Rocking back and forth, the woman whimpered, face pressed into her small hands.

A lump rose into the turtle's throat and he jumped up-but he knew not of what to say….

…or even what to do.

Puzzled and awkward, he watched her take shuddering gasps and finally, rub at her face with an air of finality.

"F-Forgive me, Raphael. J-Just an old f-fool. Now….after I b-buried David, I didn't see what point there was in living anymore. So, one day, after work-I cleaned at an old office building at the time-I climbed up to the top of a six story building."

Raph abruptly stopped breathing. The woman managed a shaky smile.

"I remember feeling calm-calmer then I had ever felt, despite what I felt ready to do. I prepared myself to jump, then decided I might as well look at the ground that would end it."

"What…changed your mind?" Raph's voice was so quiet he could barely recognize it.

She smiled again.

"Nearby there were….." She paused, and went about more gently.

"Nearby there were…children. Playing hopscotch on the sidewalk. I watched them for awhile….then, when their mothers called them home for dinner, I realized I didn't much feel like killing myself anymore. So I went home and made supper.

The years went by, one after another. I found work and food wherever I could. I sold most of my possessions I had gained during my Rhondine days." Her eyes glinted.

"Well….all but one, anyway. As I was saying, I grew old. And tired. Weary of this world and what lay upon it-I withdrew into a nearby monastery as a noviate-and later, a nun.

"And then….one rainy evening, I was….visited….by an odd little angel."

Raph frowned, confused.

"Angel? Who was she?"

The woman's eyelids were flickering.

"He, d-dear. Someone I rather enjoyed conversing with. He was a wingless angel-and a very startled one at that-angels are once you catch them lurking about-and he does come back for visits. I do enjoy that very much."

Her smile broadened.

"In a way, I've been very lucky, I suppose. I am content with the holy walls over my head-never mind where that may be. And I do believe I have found a friend. Not many old wretches manage that."

Her wrinkled hand briefly touched Raph's arm, and, with a sigh, she turned over again, and started to snore.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sensei?"

"Hmm?"

It was Raph's turn to help with the dishes that night. Due to the fact that the turtle was still not very strong, he only handed the slightly cracked or chipped pieces for Splinter to wash and dry before placing them back onto the shelf.

Raph paused before very awkwardly handing Splinter a teapot.

"I…er….what would it…be like?"

Splinter glanced briefly at Raphael before wiping the little pot's handle.

"What would what be like, my son?"

"Well…."

Raphael fidgeted, feeling somewhat shy.

"Um…I guess it's two things, really. Sei-Sei….what happens when you get sick?"

The rat gave him a surprised look.

"You take your rest, my son. Healing takes time-but only if you allow it."

Raph vigorously shook his head.

"No….no….I don't mean like a flu or bug or somethin.' I mean…."

The turtle took a deep breath.

"I mean super sick. Is it possible….for you to never get better? If it's bad enough?"

The rat wiped his slightly soap wrinkled hands on a nearby cloth, and tucked the last dish away before slowly bending down to his son's level.

"Well….yes," he said, somewhat hesitantly. "It does depend. Some people…." He shrugged helplessly.

"It can be too much. And some people do lose the strength or will to fight back. Am I not always reminding you and your brothers to do up your jackets in the sewer halls? It gets chilly this time of year-and it may be possible for one of you to come down with pneumonia."

_Pneumonia! _Raph shivered.

"Does t-that kill you too?"

Splinter sighed.

"Rarely, but….given a bad enough case, it may win dominance over you. Take care that you remain that of yourself."

Raph just nodded, before opening his mouth again.

"And….Sensei? What….would it be like? To lose a kid? Wouldja feel sad if anything ever….?"

He felt slightly embarrassed.

Splinter paused, then quietly swept him into a hug before standing up and gruffly resuming wiping his hands off.

"I'm not sure if there would be anything left of me to grieve, my son.

Anything at all."

"Hello," commented Raph, briskly strolling in through the window in his usual formation, occasionally glancing behind him.

"Miss….?"

He stopped, blinking in confusion.

La Rhondine was quiet where she lay, three shades paler then she normally was. Staring at the ceiling, her hands intertwined a fierce sparkle in her eyes. Nevertheless, she managed a small smile, though she did not seem to want to turn her head-perhaps she was not able to.

"Fönster-pojke…?"

Raphael cautiously stepped closer.

"Yes?"

After a bit of struggle, she managed to turn her head to face Raphael.

"Be a dear, will you? Please….go…downstairs in your cloak. They won't….ask questions. It is Lent-the occasional shawl or hood is custom.

But please….ask for Sister Mary or Anna…either one will suffice. Tell them I need…."

The woman took a few deep breaths, then continued.

"A….priest. And then….a lawyer. Remind her….there is still one left."

She managed a small, shuddering sigh.

"R-Raphael. The world….was once a beautiful place. Please remember that."

Raph took her hand before hurrying out the door.

"It is still. Honestly-it still is."


	8. Chapter 8

Sparks

Quote:

_"It's only the beginning now  
...a pathway yet unknown  
At times the sound of other steps  
...sometimes we walk alone _

_The best beginnings of our lives  
May sometimes end in sorrow  
But even on our darkest days  
The sun will shine tomorrow._

_So we must do our very best  
Whatever life may bring  
And look beyond the winter chill  
To smell the breath of spring._

_She'll get better. It's not like she has pneumonia._

So thought Raph as an old Priest whose robe smelled faintly of juniper limped in to give the woman what he called "Last Rites."

_She'll get better. It's just a cough._

So thought the little turtle as he and several others were shooed out of the room by the odd-man-in-suit-with-a-briefcase.

_It's nothing serious. She's just tired._

So he thought when he made his way home in the drizzling rain, sneezing occasionally.

* * * * * * * * * *

Instead of waiting until next week-Raph thought it a big enough gamble as it was, but he decided to take a chance-he hurried out the very

next evening.

_They were going to call a Doctor, right? She's okay. She's fine n-_

As the turtle made his way up the slippery brick (He was quite good by now) he heaved himself into the room with a slight grunt.

Silence.

The room was empty.

Save for a neatly made bed and a vase of flowers nearby.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

What could he have been thinking?

Sister Catherine's mournful expression confirmed the worst for Raphael. He had hurriedly set off for home…..until walking had become

impossible.

It was everywhere. He couldn't escape it. Even as he dashed under the cover of darkness, it was getting harder and harder to see.

And the raindrops didn't help either.

They plunked in an arrhythmic pattern on the canvas above shop doors, where people, ignoring the little cloaked figure, hurried inside.

Finally, in an old alley, Raph's legs gave under him, and with a strangled yelp, fell to the gravel.

He did not get up.

Streams trickled off the corners of the gutters, making a constant splattering noise into the puddles below. They seemed to defy gravity as

some flowed on support bars for the awning, leading right into the center of his shelter and dripping, cold, wet and uncomfortable, onto his

face, torso, and shoulders. The little droplets rolling off his mask dulled the color of the red, making it match the surroundings of the alley:

dreary, blurred and gray.

The sound was everywhere. The smallest trickle running through shaded cracks in the pavement; the light, repeated, bouncing _plink_ it made

when it hit the leaves of trees; the steady river bubbling out from gutters into the streets; the constant showering and splashing of what

poured from the dark above.

It wasn't fair.

It just wasn't.

La Rhondine had been right. With a sickening jolt, Raphael realized that he'd never even learned the woman's real name.

Bitter and angry tears reluctantly spilled from his eyes as the sobs broke lose.

But the turtle didn't stay long, seeing as a pair of hands pulled the surprised turtle into the darkness from the right.


	9. Chapter 9 Finale

Quote:

_Into each life will always come  
A time to start anew  
A new beginning for each heart  
As fresh as morning dew._

_The years will never take away  
Our chance to start anew  
It's only the beginning now  
So dreams can still come true."_

* * *

_Raph didn't even manage a startled cry as the hands _yanked him roughly against rough fabric.

Clean rough fabric.

Faded rough fabric.

Faded, clean, familiar rough fabric that belonged to....

Now terrified, Raph reluctantly allowed his eyes to travel upwards.

And his worse fears were confirmed as Splinter the now very soaked rat stared back.

Hello, everyone. This tale ends-but the last chapter DOES have spiritual undertones. I hope I don't offend anyone....gomen nasai!

~ * ~

Oh, dear.

This was bad.

This was very, VERY bad.

Raph's little, now slightly overworked heart almost stopped beating. The turtle began to pull away, now breathless.

But the onyx eyes cooled, and his clawed hands pulled Raphael closer, even before the little kami began to furiously fight.

"Let me go!"

The turtle was humiliated to find that he was sobbing. Realizing it was fruitless, his fight became halfhearted, but nonetheless desperate.

But Splinter's grasp was relentless, eyes never leaving Raph's as he slowly bent down to the child's level.

And pulled him wordlessly into a hug as Raph gave up the struggle and simply abandoned himself to tears.

* * *

_"The world was so beautiful back then, Fonster-Pojke."_

_"Honestly, it still is."_

What a lie that was.

Raph sullenly sniffed at his black sleeve, glaring at the shiny box Father had called a coffin.

The world was anything BUT beautiful. People you liked kicked-the-can, and sparrows were boarded up and buried.

Splinter squeezed his hand.

The weather was warm, and somewhat pleasant, much to Raph's chagrin. Why couldn't the weather simply match your mood?

The procession was quiet, and uneventful. The priest continued to drone on, while Raph unhappily fidgeted from one foot to the other.

What was coming here going to accomplish, other then another round of tears?

A few of the sisters had shown up, but no one had paid any attention to the cloaked figures in the background. Raph had to suppress a

whimper.

Splinter slowly turned to face him. It was impossible to see his face, but his eyes glinted in the dim gloom.

"She was glad to go, Raphael. Just a tired soul."

Raph dug his foot around in the muddy earth.

"But I didn't want her to go at all!"

- - -

The graveyard was small, but each stone was neatly arranged into small rows. The grass had been recently cut, and the faint scent of oil

was in the air. Raph took a deep breath.

Someone had planted flowers by an old bench-as if you'd want to stay long enough to sit-which was a nice gesture, but Raph still felt

slightly hollow, even after looking at their cheerful red and white heads.

The trees near the gate rustled quietly, occasional patches of sunlight being broken by light, somewhat shady patches on emerald grass.

In the silence, as everyone-for some reason or another, bowed their heads, Raph closed his eyes.

The air smelt clean and fresh. A woman's shoes tapped lightly on the sidewalk not too far from the gate as she jogged, a dog's claws _click-_

_click-clicking _on the pavement beside her.

The world seemed to be exploding into an overflowing blue sky-just like Leo's middle name, Sora.

Raph quietly exhaled as the ceremony was called into a pause. He didn't see why, seeing as the nuns were more then likely to simply

stand silent rather then mingle in intermission, but it was a relief to not hear the solemn words of lament: _Ashes to ashes and dust to dust._

La Rhondine would've most likely been bored at the thought.

And what was with the dust and dirt, anyway? She strewed flowers and stuff-not dirt in people's eyes!

At the thought of people below La Rhondine's swinging form sneezing and gasping and reaching for handkerchiefs as they rubbed at their

faces made Raph bit hard on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from giggling.

But the words she would, perhaps like to hear were: _"Where your treasure is, there thou will find your heart also."_

It didn't make much sense to the young turtle, but the words were somewhat swe-

Splinter ridgened, grip around Raph's hand becoming tight. The puzzled turtle turned to look at him before a woman wearing a suit,

carrying a briefcase, and a somewhat stern expression on her face hurried over.

"Raphael?"

The turtle was so startled to hear his name that he didn't respond. The woman shook his hand-or rather, his sleeve.

"You are Raphael....? Well, there wasn't a last name, but...?"

Splinter cleared his throat. The woman gave him a curious look, but seemed to have decided that they did the somewhat old fashioned

expression of wearing black veils to funeral events.

"Miss? May I...?"

"Amanda Brice, attorney at law," she stated importantly, pausing for a moment to straighten the small ribbon she had neatly arranged at

her collar's throat. "I believe you were acquainted to Miss....?"

Raph just gave her a confused look after she had stated a name.

"La Rhondine?"

The woman gave the little figure a bewildered stare.

"Er....no, dear. The lady for which this event has been ordained."

Raph's throat tightened. The woman busily opened a slightly expensive looking briefcase with a _snap, _and reached inside for an envelope

which she bent, and gently handed the heavy paper to a blinking Raphael.

"Miss (Blank ;) stated in her will that ownership was to go directly to you."

Splinter turned his head, the hood falling more deeply over his head.

"...what? My Raphael...?"

The woman just nodded, impatiently checking her watch.

"My deepest condolences-but she was most insistant the...er, last one was to go to you, dear. Now, good day to you."

And with that, heels brushing against grass before meeting pavement, she simply turned, and briskly trotted towards a shiny black car

parked outside the cemetery walls.

*~*

Raph shook his head, still too dumbfounded to speak as he turned the envelope around.

The lump grew tighter in his throat.

_Fonster-pojke_ was written in spiky and somewhat shaky lettering on the cream paper.

***

Splinter bent to Raphael's height, and drew him close.

"It is alright, my son," he said gently, as the Priest checked his own watch.

"You do not have to read if you do not wish to right now."

Raph simply shook his head, and shyly extended it to Splinter.

The rat gave him a gentle smile, placed his palm on his head, and carefully, with the very tip of his claw, tore the envelope open.

And something glinting fell free from the paper and landed in a surprised Raphael's hands.

* * *

_My dear Raphael, I hope this letter finds you well-or even finds you at all! ^^ I was mot sure if you were coming....but if you are reading this,_

_then I am well-sated indeed._

_I sense my own happy ending has greeted me at last, Raphael. I do not mourn-on the contrary, I am very happy.I am going home-home to my_

_villa, my Linus, my David, my swing, my rose garden in the sky._

_Forgive me if I sounded presumptuous back there....my apologies. Just a silly old lady, Raphael-but one you came to hear me out. That is more _

_then anyone has ever given me in many painful years to count...._

_The Priest knocks-you have been beckoned out of the room. Odd-you use the door and not the window! It makes me want to smile._

_But there is little time, so I must get on with it, I suppose._

_In closing, thank you, my dear boy....turtle....whichever suits you, love. And goodbye. I am not long for this world-but I can leave behind what I _

_can, even if the Sparrow's plumage fades._

_Linus gave this locket to me. He was a non traditionalist- locket first, ring at the wedding ceremony. To my regret-I lost my ring, but this can at_

_least find its place with you. May it give you as much happiness as it did for Linus and me._

_Farewell. I am off-to My Maker and yours, who will never destroy what he created. I rely implicitly on his power, and confide wholly in his _

_goodness: I count the hours till that eventful one arrives which shall restore me to him, reveal him to me._

_Do not lament-too fine a day to worry about such nonsense._

_And I never did tell you my name, did I? It was Amelia in my childhood days-Amelia Everblott. I discarded it for another name in Paris-Espoir._

_Not the loveliest name-but a meaning I needed more then anything material in my life._

_Hope._

_And, once Linus passed and after my thoughts of end, I changed my last name, seeing as I was no longer La Rhondine._

_My very best wishes,_

_Epoir Marie Fortunato._

The tears had come again as Raph gazed at the thin, silver chain clenched in his fist.

The locket itself was small, with an ornate rose set in sterling sliver, a few garnets sprinkled about in a neat crisscross. With trembling

fingers, Raph clumsily opened it.

A kind, thoughtful face, beset with happiness. A woman's young, laughing face, surrounded by folds of white lace.

Splinter managed a trembling smile as Raph lay his own face on the rat's shoulder when Splinter scooped him up.

Only this time, he didn't hide a smile as Splinter began to walk away from the ending service.

The Priest was about to close the ceremony, then paused.

Some of the nuns and few spectators looked up, one occasionally commenting. Curious, Raph tilted his head as well, mindful to let the cloth

hide him.

What he saw made him smile again, even through the blinding array of tears.

In the sky, hundreds, if not thousands of little brown birds twittered in a neat formation heading Northeast.

Sparrows.

The Ever Loving End.


End file.
